<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Live a Little by orange_panic_archive</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25808725">Live a Little</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_panic_archive/pseuds/orange_panic_archive'>orange_panic_archive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: Legend of Korra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Awkward Romance, Ex Sex, F/M, Friendship, Light Angst, Romance, Wedding Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:22:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25808725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_panic_archive/pseuds/orange_panic_archive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Korra agrees to be Mako’s date for a wedding, just as friends. Can they keep themselves from repeating past mistakes?</p><p>Moderately angsty Makorra, somewhat sappy Irohsami. This was an absolute blast to write. Enjoy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bolin/Opal (Avatar), Iroh II/Asami Sato, Korra/Mako (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This actually started as a glimpse at Iroh and Asami's wedding for something else and then totally took on a life of its own. Assumes a world where they got together sometime late in Season 2, and thus changes canon after that point, including for Mako and Korra.</p><p>Presented with all the usual caveats that I own none of the LOK copyright.</p><p>I love comments!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mako had stopped paying attention to what they were saying. These things were all the same anyway. <em> Something something love, something something honor. </em> Occasionally someone tried to slip in something funny, like “I promise to always do your dishes,” but General Iroh was too straightlaced to try anything like that. He probably already did the dishes anyway.</p><p>Instead, Mako scanned the crowd. Though he knew they’d tried to keep the ceremony small, it seemed like half the Fire Nation had turned out. The chairs to his right were a sea of crimson. He spotted Firelord Izumi next to her wife in the front row, both of them beaming. On her other side sat old Zuko himself, his long white hair styled into a perfect half knot that was so old-fashioned it looked like it belonged on one of Republic City’s many statues. As Mako watched, the grizzled former Firelord dabbed one wet eye with a red-and-yellow flowered handkerchief. A diminutive woman who must have been Iroh’s grandmother patted his arm affectionately. </p><p>The next few rows of chairs were taken up with other members of Iroh’s large family: his two brothers, their wives, and a smattering of squirming nieces and nephews; various aunts, uncles, and cousins; and a dark-haired girl in her mid-teens who sat at the end of Izumi’s row. Mako had at first been excited to learn that Iroh had a younger sister, but he hadn’t realized how much younger. He had made some bad decisions in his life when it came to women, but he liked to think he at least knew better than that. The general might seem like a nice guy, but he had no doubt Iroh would burn him to a cinder if he caught Mako anywhere near his sixteen-year-old sister. As he probably should.</p><p>The rest of the rows were filled with what Mako presumed were General Iroh’s friends and acquaintances. There were quite a few men and women who, like Iroh, sported the scarlet uniform of the United Forces. Mako spotted Iameh, Iroh’s second-in-command who occasionally joined their social circle, her arm around a handsome man with yellow hair. He was also surprised to see Master Katara, Avatar Aang’s widow, in the row directly behind Firelord Zuko. It made sense—Katara and Zuko went way back—but given her closeness to Korra it was still odd to see her sitting over there and not with the rest of Team Avatar, a spot of deep blue in a sea of red fabric.</p><p>Mako turned to the woman next to him. Korra had done her hair up for the occasion. He thought it made her look older; not in a bad way, but in a way that made him think he could see the shadow of the woman she would become. She wore a pale blue dress of some kind of shimmering material that was long enough to be appropriate, but short enough to be interesting. It was sleeveless, the heart-shaped neckline highlighting her strong shoulders. Though he rarely saw Korra wear jewelry—he wasn’t even sure she owned any—she’d borrowed some earrings and a delicate necklace of crystals from Asami. Mako dimly recalled that it was supposed to be the other way around. Something borrowed, something blue? </p><p>Asami herself was speaking now. She looked stunning. Her jet black hair was piled high behind her head, and the fading sunlight glinted off the diamonds at her ears and throat. Her dress was the perfect combination of modest and alluring; form-fitting yet flared, with bare shoulders and long lace sleeves. As he watched, Asami took the ring in her hand and placed it on Iroh’s waiting finger. Though Mako couldn’t see her face well from this angle, he knew she was smiling. Iroh for his part looked slightly stunned, as if a part of him couldn’t believe this was really happening. Mako knew how he felt.</p><p>“And now,” said the old man behind the podium, “you may kiss the bride.” General Iroh leaned down. Instead of meeting him, Asami threw her arms around his neck and jumped. Somehow Iroh caught her, swinging her legs around in a swirl of white satin as he hooked one arm under her knees. He laughed; the kind of big, hearty laugh that only comes from people who are blissfully happy, and kissed her. Asami blushed, looking radiant. Iroh beamed at her. He then proceeded to carry her down the aisle, her arms still around his neck, to general applause. The edges of Asami’s dress trailed slightly on the grass. Mako caught a flash of one teal pump as they walked by.</p><p>The damnedest thing was, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. </p><p>“Show-off,” Mako muttered. He pulled at his collar. Mako hated suits. </p><p>He felt a tap on one shoulder and realized that he was blocking the exit for his row of chairs. Korra stood next to him, a wry smile on her face. Behind her he could see Bolin and Opal as well. Bolin looked like he’d been crying. “Time to get shamelessly drunk?” Korra asked. </p><p>“And how.” Mako offered her his hand. “My lady, after you.” She laughed and took it. He was grateful Korra had agreed to be his date to the wedding, just as friends. Their rule was simple; save one another from being Iroh and Asami’s only single friends, and be one another’s wingman if any of the Fire Nation cousins proved suitably attractive. He wasn’t likely to get a much better deal than that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>But wait, I know Mako and Korra are the focus here, but why are General Iroh and Asami Sato getting so adorably married in the first place? Iroh and Asami's story, and other events previous to this piece, are told in the series, Fearless, located here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954804</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The reception was held at a brightly lit open-air pavilion on the other side of the park. Tables and chairs were set at regular intervals around a wide dance floor. High above, soft white lights dangled from strings that had been woven into the wooden beams of the roof. Two bars had been set up on the far side of the building, one on each end of a long table covered in flowers and gifts. </p><p>Mako made straight for one of the bars. Korra followed him. The bartender, an older woman in a crisp white uniform, smiled as they approached. “Ah, my first customers. What are you having?”</p><p>Mako scanned the offerings. It was the typical assortment of beer, wine, and liquor, though he was unsurprised to see that most of it was rather high-end. An unfamiliar bottle caught his eye. It was bright green, and filled with what he imagined was some kind of dark liquor.</p><p>“What on earth is Queen’s Lightning?” he asked, squinting as he read the label. </p><p>“Hoo boy, that’ll knock your socks off. It’s basically grain alcohol. Made from some kind of prairie grass down south. The bride and groom requested it special. I think it’s some kind of joke between them.”</p><p>Korra raised an eyebrow. Mako shrugged. What the hell. </p><p>“Two please,” Korra said. The bartender nodded, pouring two generous tumblers over ice. Korra took them, then handed one to Mako. “Bottoms up,” she said.</p><p>He eyed the dark liquor suspiciously. Up close, it looked more like engine oil than anything he should be drinking. He hoped this wasn’t Asami’s idea of a joke. “Bottoms up.”</p><p>It may not have been engine oil, but it tasted like it was in the same general neighborhood. Mako coughed. His throat burned. Beside him he heard Korra sputter. “Damn,” she said. He glanced over at her. Her face was red. Her eyes had started to water. She grinned. “That’s an experience.”</p><p>Mako was on his third glass of Queen’s Lightning by the time they finished dinner. At least the food was good. Both Asami and Iroh were “into” food in a way that Mako had never quite understood. They were always searching out these little holes in the wall across the city, raving about everything from giant koi caviar to sandwiches. To Mako, food was fuel. He ate when he was hungry, and though he had some preferences it didn’t matter overmuch what it was. His pantry at home was mostly stacked with instant ramen.</p><p>Thankfully, Iroh and Asami had eschewed many of the more tedious elements of a wedding. Mako had been afraid that what was technically a Fire Nation royal event would be hours of pomp and circumstance. But Asami had no family to speak of, and although she said it was fine Mako knew she was grateful when Iroh had offered to skip most of the traditions. Asami had walked alone down the aisle. There were to be no individual dances besides their own, and there had been precious few speeches, too. Iroh’s parents had given their tearful remarks together, followed by a roast from his oldest brother that made Iroh turn so red he looked like he was choking. Korra had also given a speech in her role as pseudo maid of honor; there had been no wedding party, either. That was all. The whole thing was refreshingly modern.</p><p>Mako looked across the table at Bolin. His brother kept staring at Opal, and his face couldn’t be more transparent. He would be very surprised if he wasn’t doing this whole thing again in less than a year. <em> Great.  </em></p><p>“All <em>right,</em>” said Korra as she flopped down into the chair beside him. “Cake time!” She looked down into her own, empty tumbler. Given how much she’d had to drink, Mako was surprised that her speech had gone so well. But then again, performance under pressure was Korra’s whole job. He nodded to her, drained his glass, and stood. He gave Korra a stiff, exaggerated bow reminiscent of Iroh’s more formal bearing, then trotted off for more drinks.</p><p>The evening wore on.</p><p>At one point Mako came back to their table to find, not Korra, but Iroh. After a few seconds, he realized he’d actually gone to the wrong table entirely. He’d had quite a bit to drink at this point, and apparently he’d simply gotten lost. He glanced around the room and saw Bolin and Opal dancing. Korra was off to the side, chatting up a knot of men in bright red coats. <em> Traitor. </em> To Mako’s displeasure there had proved to be far more single men in attendance than women. Somewhere off to the side he heard Asami laugh.</p><p>He sat down, balancing his drinks. He’d learned that he could get up less frequently if he carried four drinks at a time instead of two. He set them carefully on the table, then pushed a tumbler in front of Iroh. “Congratulations,” he said. Iroh had come by with Asami earlier on their rounds, and Mako thought he’d already said as much, but it was hard to remember. </p><p>“Thank you,” Iroh said. He looked down at the glass skeptically. “I already had two drinks tonight though.” </p><p>Mako snorted. “<em>Two </em>drinks? It’s your wedding, man. With any luck, you only get one. Live a little.” </p><p>Iroh smiled. He picked up the tumbler and examined its contents. “Is this stuff actually any good?” he asked.</p><p>“No. It’s positively disgusting.” </p><p>He put it down. “I’d better not.”</p><p>“Come on,” Mako said. “You can’t not try it. I heard you had it special ordered. From somewhere with grass.” Mako thought for a second. “It would be disrespectful not to have at least one.”</p><p>Iroh frowned slightly, then tipped the glass to his lips and took a healthy swallow. He sucked in a breath, then coughed slightly. “That’s certainly different,” he said. He took another, slower sip, grimaced, then drained the glass. Mako pushed a second drink across the table.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I never apologized, by the way,” said Iroh. His voice was slightly slurred. Four glass tumblers of Queen’s Lightning sat empty in front of him. “For calling you an idiot. That one time. You weren’t there.” Mako had no idea what the man was talking about. He’d never seen someone go from fine to drunk so quickly, especially a man of Iroh’s size. He’d remembered too late that the general rarely drank. </p><p>“Er, no problem,” he said.</p><p>“I owe you everything,” Iroh continued. His dark hair, neatly combed back for the event, was starting to fall forward into his eyes. “If you hadn’t <em> been </em> an idiot and left her, Asami might not have even looked at me.” Mako highly doubted that. Iroh was 6’1”, strikingly handsome, a real-life prince, and, beneath his heroic exterior, a truly giant dork. Mako couldn’t imagine anyone better suited to sweeping someone like Asami—also a rich, gorgeous nerd—completely off her feet. </p><p>“I used to hate you, you know.” Mako blinked. <em> What? </em> Iroh smiled, his golden eyes a little unfocused. “Nothing personal,” he said slowly. “Jealous, really. For stringing her along, for pushing me out. Yeah, there was a time I wanted to pound your face in.” Iroh shook his head. “I’m glad that’s over. You’re a good man, Mako. I’m happy we can be friends.” Mako just stared at him. He’d always thought the jealousy had been the other way around. Not because he still had feelings for Asami, precisely. Just because Iroh had always looked so damned happy.</p><p>Thankfully at that moment Asami herself wandered over, Korra in her wake. “There you are,” she said. She put one hand on Iroh’s shoulder. “Between your family and the UF crew it seems like everyone in here is wearing the same red coat.” Asami glanced down at the empty tumblers, then across the table at Mako. He gave her a little shrug. Asami’s eyes narrowed. “Iroh,” she said, “can I borrow you for a minute?” </p><p>Iroh looked up at her. “You’re beautiful,” he said. Asami smiled and pushed his hair out of his eyes, then kissed him on the forehead. </p><p>“Love you, too,” she said. “Come on.” Iroh grinned, then heaved himself to his feet and followed her. Korra plopped down in his place.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” she said. </p><p>“Thanks. That was getting... interesting.”</p><p>Korra glanced behind her at the departing couple. “I can’t tell if I’m happy for her or if I want to vomit,” she said. </p><p>“Can’t it be both?” Korra grinned. Mako glanced around. “No luck with the UF boys, then?” The group Korra had been talking to were now clustered by one of the bars, deep in conversation with two young Fire Nation women.</p><p>“I might have done better if my supposed wingman hadn’t been over here getting the groom shitfaced,” she said. </p><p>“Sorry. It had to be done.” Mako looked around again. It seemed like they were the only ones still sitting at a table. “Want to dance?”</p><p>Korra shrugged, then got to her feet. He followed her out onto the dance floor. The song was fast, something he didn’t recognize. He’d never considered himself a great dancer, but his years as a pro-bender had taught him enough about how to move his body that he passed for competent. Korra was usually a little better, but tonight her timing was off. Mako realized that, while they’d probably had about the same number of drinks, he outweighed her by nearly 50 pounds. He’d have to keep an eye on that. </p><p>Mako saw her wobble slightly and reflexively put one hand on her arm to steady her. Korra looked at him, her blue eyes curious. He kept his hand where it was.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Korra pushed him hard against the door to his cabin, her mouth hot against his. Mako’s head thumped painfully on the thick wood. While all guests had had the option of returning to Republic City after the reception, close family and many of the young people had opted to rent some of the bungalows that were available for events such as these. Mako had split a cabin with Bolin, but his brother had made it very clear that it was for appearances only and that he had no intention of sleeping there. </p><p>He reached behind and fumbled for the knob. The door opened, almost spilling both of them onto the floor. The cabin was nothing but a single, square room with an adjoining bathroom. Two narrow beds with thick, red-and-black checkered quilts were separated by a nightstand. A plush platypus bear head hung from the wall as a mock hunting trophy. Mako still wasn’t sure what had inspired Asami and Iroh’s whole woodsy, campy theme. </p><p>He and Korra stumbled backwards until the back of his knees hit one of the beds. They both toppled over onto it. Mako was able to twist a little bit to avoid taking Korra’s full weight on his chest. He was still in excellent shape despite several years away from the bending arena, but Korra was 5’4” of solid muscle and no lightweight. </p><p>Mako gasped a sigh of relief as Korra undid the buttons on his collar. Those things really were torture. He started kissing her again, hungrily, desperately, surprised at how badly he suddenly wanted her. He could taste the liquor on her breath, sharp and sour. Korra went for the rest of the buttons on his shirt while he reached behind and unzipped her dress. He slid the sleek fabric down her front, and was surprised to find that she sported a bright red bra underneath.</p><p>“I didn’t know you owned anything red,” he said, breathless.</p><p>“I was fishing for firebenders,” she gasped, kissing his neck. “I guess I didn’t entirely miss the mark, did I?” She pulled his shirt open, then pushed him on his back. He held up his arms and she pulled it off, then the white undershirt as well.</p><p>“I’d forgotten how much I like this,” she said. She ran both hands over his chest as he grabbed the edges of her dress and pulled it the rest of the way down. She kicked it off, and he saw that she wore thin, nearly transparent panties the same color as the bra. Korra sat back and straddled him, then started working on his belt. </p><p>“Korra,” he said suddenly, “what are we doing?”</p><p>“What does it look like we’re doing?” She pulled the belt free.</p><p>“No, I mean. What are we <em> doing? </em> You and me. Again.” He didn’t know exactly why he’d said it. He was clearly going along with what was happening. More than going along with it, really. He didn’t think that he could stop now even if he wanted to.</p><p>“I <em>know</em> what you mean,” Korra said. She sounded almost angry. She yanked hard at the top of his pants and a button popped. “But who else are we going to do this to?” Korra had a point. Neither of them had dated anyone steadily since they’d broken up three years ago. Between that and Mako working a lot of nights as a detective, he didn’t even want to think about the last time he’d gotten laid. The Fire Cousins plan had been a bust. Maybe Korra was right. They were all each other had. </p><p>Korra pulled his pants down over his hips, then leaned forwards and kissed him again. He grabbed her by her shoulders and rolled, flipping her under him. He kicked the pants the rest of the way off, and his shoes as well, all the time holding Korra down with his weight while he kissed her mouth, her neck, her throat. He left Asami’s crystal necklace on. </p><p>Mako reached under her back to unclasp her bra. He felt her pulling off his boxers, then gasped as she started to work her hand. There was very little foreplay; they both needed each other too badly to waste time with that. He reached down and yanked at her panties. The insubstantial fabric tore easily in his grasp. Mako leaned forwards and kissed her hard on the mouth as she wrapped her legs around him. Then her blue eyes went wide, and it was bliss.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Korra lay next to him, one arm draped across his torso, her head warm on his chest. Her hair had started to come undone from its bundle. He could smell whatever hairspray she’d used, floral and slightly astringent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot how much I liked this, too,” he said, and pushed one errant lock of hair behind her ear. He wasn’t just saying that, either. There had been a lot of good times in between the bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mako,” she said quietly, after a while, “are we broken?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned and kissed her forehead. “Nah,” he said. Truthfully, he’d wondered this himself, but he knew better than to say that. “We’re just that special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happens now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay like that for a long time. At first Mako could hear other partiers outside on the lawn, but gradually the revelry faded, replaced by the sound of crickets and other night creatures. Korra’s breathing slowed to a regular rhythm. It was nice, peaceful. For the first time, Mako thought he understood why Iroh and Asami had chosen to get married out in nature instead of back in the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opened his eyes again, it was light. Korra was gone. He was typically a light sleeper, but apparently the alcohol had put him under more deeply than usual. Mako was surprised to find himself mildly disappointed. He got up slowly, careful not to rush things, and made his way into the bathroom. He flipped on the light and winced. Then he looked in the mirror. Scrawled across the glass in lipstick read:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drink water. My place, 7:30. Bring food.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The lipstick was the same shade Korra had been wearing the night before. Not that he’d had any doubts who left the message. Even if she hadn’t been the only other person in the cabin, only Korra would tell him to come over with food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mako smiled. Maybe they couldn’t relive the past. But perhaps, if they were careful, they could borrow just enough to make do in the present. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>